Damn, we're in a tight spot
by ZoeJoy24
Summary: JT and Malcolm corner a killer in a wine cellar. The plan is to keep him contained until back up arrives, but when that doesn't work Malcolm steps in to keep JT from getting killed, and ends up taking the brunt of the killer's violence instead.
1. The Cellar

**A/N: Hey all, this is my first foray into writing fic for the Prodigal Son. Up to now all my works have been in the Merlin Fandom, but I'm branching out! Enjoy!**

JT did not like tight spaces. He wasn't claustrophobic, it wasn't a fear thing, but he was a big guy, and places like storage rooms and wine cellars made him feel cramped and hindered, unable to operate at full capacity. So of course, the suspect, a man named Kyle Lawton, had run into the back of the restaurant, through the storage room and down into an honest to god underground wine cellar that only a historic building and fancy restaurant like this one would still have.

"He went into the cellar. There might be another exit, I'm going to take a look. Stay here," he ordered Bright, who of course had followed along.

"You shouldn't go down alone," Bright protested.

"He doesn't have a gun, and we need to know if there is another way out. If not, we wait for backup. If there is, we gotta keep chasing him," JT explained. "You stay here, make sure he doesn't double back, and let Gil and Dani know where we are."

Malcolm looked dubious, but nodded agreement. JT had a valid point. He wasn't sidelining the profiler, someone had to stay by the exit and contact the rest of the team, and since Malcolm didn't carry it made sense for it to be him.

JT switched on his flashlight, weapon at the ready, and descended the steep stairs slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the low lighting before stepping fully into the cellar.

It was a large space, almost as large as the restaurant above, and filled with shelves full of barrels and bottles. He couldn't see to the other end of the room from where he'd come down, so he carefully made his way forward. The old wooden floor creaked with each step, but the area was thankfully clear of spiderwebs. JT hated spiderwebs almost as much as tight spaces, and especially spiderwebs in tight spaces.

He heard a loud grunt and saw movement out of the corner of his eye, the slightest shift of a shadow, and turned towards it, just in time to see a shelving unit holding several barrels and bottles tip towards him. He let out a loud curse as it fell, but he didn't have time to move, and the weight of barrels and sturdy old shelving knocked him to the floor, his gun sliding away as he fell. And just like that he was pinned, his right leg and lower back trapped firmly and only a small space free above his head. Aside from the shock and some bruising from the fall he didn't feel injured. Lucky.

JT glanced around him quickly, looking for Lawton, who must have been responsible for knocking over the shelves, and looking for his gun as well. It had slid just a foot or so past his grip, and there was no sign of their suspect.. Had he run while JT was down? Either for another exit or back towards where Malcolm was waiting? He got hands in front of him and began to pull himself out from under the mess of barrels and broken glass, reaching for his gun, when a heavy boot slammed down onto his outstretched hand.

JT cried out in pain as Lawton dug his heel in for good measure, before stepping back and squatting down to look JT in the eyes. The man was tossing a knife, his weapon of choice, back and forth between his hands as he grinned. Lawton was an especially sick bastard, reveling in the pain of others, and JT knew he was in trouble.

"Well well, what have we got here? A little stuck, detective? That's all right, we can get you out, piece by piece," Lawton taunted. He leaned forward, knife held firmly in one hand now as he prepared to strike.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Kyle?" a voice called out from beyond them.

JT let out an exhale of both relief and frustration as the profiler came into view.

"Bright, get out of here. Get Gil and Dani down here," JT exclaimed.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Kyle asked at the same time, rising to a stand and turning to face Malcolm. He was standing between the profiler and JT's gun, which was still just out of his reach.

Malcolm had both hands in front of him, away from his body, nonthreatening and placating at the same time, and he was walking forward slowly and evenly, as if he was approaching a spooked animal.

"Because he's a cop. You kill a cop in New York City, you don't get away. Right now you've got, what, three or four people looking for you? You kill him, you'll have over 30,000 hunting you down," Bright explained.

He'd stopped just outside of Lawton's reach, hands still up. Lawton didn't move, except for the hand holding the knife which he was constantly adjusting his grip on. He didn't respond, just stood there. JT couldn't see his face, couldn't tell how he was reacting to Bright's warning.

"I'll let you leave, right now," Malcolm continued, stepping to the side in confirmation. "You walk away, you get the chance to escape. I won't chase you, I've got to help my friend there."

"You'd just me go?" Lawton scoffed.

"Yes. You don't cut up Detective Tarmel there, and you can walk straight out of here, no one will follow you."

Malcolm was maintaining eye contact and his face was honest and open, he clearly meant it.

"Dammit Bright," JT muttered under his breath. Sure, they could track down the guy again, but what if killed another victim before they found him? Of course that next victim could be JT. It wasn't a great situation.

Lawton moved then, walking forwards towards Malcolm, who stepped back even more till his back was against the shelves, leaving as much space for Lawton to pass by as he could, raising his hands to shoulder level, watching the other man carefully, but without any intent. Finally, once Lawton had walked past, Malcolm glanced at JT, tilting his head in a silent question, 'you good?'

JT nodded, slowly getting his arms under him again, trying to put as little pressure on his injured hand as he could manage.

And then Lawton stopped walking, turning back towards them.

"You know on second thought, better safe than sorry," he said, then he took one step, and sunk his knife into Malcolm's thigh.

Malcolm hated it when the other members of the team told him to stay behind while they went on to pursue a suspect. Its like they forgot that he had been a federal agent for 10 years, that he wasn't just some civilian off the street. Sure, he couldn't carry a weapon anymore, but that didn't mean that he'd forgotten everything he'd learned as an FBI agent.

But, on this particular occasion, JT had a valid point. Someone needed to watch the entrance to the cellar, and to contact the rest of the team to let them know that they'd found Lawton and hopefully cornered him in the wine cellar. Malcolm took out his phone and dialed Gil, staying alert for any sign of trouble from below.

The team hadn't been sure which building along this block that Lawton had gone into, but they doubted he'd run past the first two or three, so Gil and Dani had started on one while Malcolm and JT had taken the next, with a few squad cars on their way to provide additional support.

"Bright, you find him?" Gil asked by way of greeting.

"Yeah, we chased him into the cellar, JT's making sure there's no other exists. We'll keep him pinned here till you get…"

A loud crash and a muffled curse from JT sounded out from the cellar below.

"Dammit. Gil, I have to go. Get here fast," Malcolm exclaimed before hanging up and heading down the stairs.

So much for just keeping Lawton contained.

It didn't take long for Malcolm to come across the source of the noise he'd heard. Lawton was there, kneeling over a trapped JT, ready to strike. Malcolm said the first thing that came to his mind, using the only weapon he had to stop the killer-his words.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

He couldn't force Lawton to stop, but he could plant doubts, he could make leaving the other man's idea, let him think he was still in charge and calling the shots. He took a closer look at the scene before him as he spoke, catching sight of JT's gun where it had slid partially beneath a shelf, just far enough from the detective's reach to be useless. JT was cradling one hand, but Malcolm didn't see any blood and while he was clearly caught he didn't seem to be in any great amount of pain.

Both men responded to his presence at the same time, their comments what he'd expected. JT was relieved but frustrated, probably unhappy that he'd been saved by a profiler. He ignored JT's order, focusing instead on Lawton, focusing on presenting as little of a threat as he could, approaching like he would a dangerous animal in the wild. Lawton was physchotic and sadistic, but not stupid. He knew that killing a cop would earn a fast and vicious response across the city, and clearly saw the logic behind Malcolm's words as he promised to let the man walk away. Moving out of his way, leaving a clear path to escape seemed to seal the deal though, and Lawton moved away from JT.

Once he was past, Malcolm spared a quick glance back towards JT, ensuring he was unharmed. He shouldn't have looked away. It was as if Lawton sensed that he'd let his guard down, become distracted. He stopped and turned back towards Malcolm, barely a foot away.

"You know on second thought, better safe than sorry," he mused, a manic light in his eye the only warning Malcolm had of his intentions before he moved forward and brought the knife he'd been holding up just enough to sink it to the hilt in Malcolm's thigh. He screamed.

It hurt like hell, pain searing through his entire leg as Lawton gave the knife a vicious twist before pulling it free. Malcolm fell to the ground with a ragged moan, both hands coming to clutch at the wound, his whole body curling into a protective ball as he gasped in pain at Lawton's feet.

"Now I know you won't be following me," Lawton proclaimed, eyes alight as he watched Malcolm suffer.

Malcolm looked up defiantly, gritting his teeth in an effort to hide his pain. "Yeah, good job. You're free and clear now," he spat out. Showing weakness to a man like Lawton was dangerous, he couldn't stay down, couldn't let his guard down again until Lawton was gone. Gil and Dani had to be close, at this point Lawton wasn't going to get far. Malcolm put out a hand to push himself up, leaning against the selves behind him for support, eyes never leaving Lawton's face. Lawton snarled at the show of defiance, angered by the lack of fear rather than dissuaded as Malcolm had hoped he would be. He lashed out, kicking Malcolm's support hand from under him and sending him sprawling again.

Malcolm clenched his teeth hard as his body fell, but not fast enough to prevent a groan from escaping. Lawton smiled, violent lust in his gaze, and moved wickedly fast, slamming his blade through Malcolm's outstretched hand and pinning it to the wooden floor beneath.

Malcolm howled, shock overcoming him even as pain coursed through him, all the sensitive nerves in his hand catching fire and scorching down his arm. His body reacted naturally in a panic and he tried to roll away from the source of the pain, only to be brought up short, gasping as the pain of trying to move his hand stole the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred, he didn't know if he was crying or about to pass out.

Lawton walked away then, going to the stairs and walking up. Was he leaving, now? The cellar door closed, the shadows deepening as the dull overhead lights were left as the only source of illumination.

And then Lawton was on him again. The man couldn't resist, couldn't walk away now. Malcolm was completely at his mercy, helpless and in agony, and now he couldn't help but finish the job.

Malcolm could hear JT yelling in anger, cursing and threatening Lawton, but the sound was muffled by his own ragged breaths. Lawton straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips, looking down on him as if he was a feast to be devoured. Malcolm had never been on the receiving end of a psychopath's killing fervor, and it was terrifying.

"What shall we do next, hm?" Lawton pondered, his eyes raking along Malcolm's face and chest as he pulled another knife out from somewhere on his person.

Malcolm could practically feel his gaze upon him, it made his skin crawl. He wanted to fight, to get out from under that gaze but there was no where for him to go. He couldn't buck his hips, one leg useless and bleeding still, and his pinned hand made it impossible for him to push the man off. He shifted slightly, instinctively trying to bring his body closer to his outstretched hand in an effort to keep it from being shifted or pulled against. As soon as he moved, Lawton responded, clamping his knees tight around Malcolm and resting his whole weight on his stomach.

Whatever air was left in Malcolm's lungs was forced out in a rush, and he struggled to inhale, gasping in short, pained breaths. He struggled to remain conscious, head lolling back and forth as his eyes sought something to focus on.

"Hey, look at me. Focus. You don't get out of this so easily," Lawton exclaimed, grabbing a fistful of Malcolm's hair in one hand and forcing his head back, holding it in place so that Malcolm couldn't look away.

"I'm going to enjoy this, pretty boy. Cutting up that face of yours, those pretty eyes. But not yet, not yet. I want you to watch."

Lawton set the tip of his knife gently against Malcolm's skin, just below his left eye, and slowly dragged it down along his cheek, then across to the middle of his lower lip, his movements careful, like a twisted caress. Malcolm looked past the knife and saw that Lawton was hard, the bulge noticeable in his pants, a clear sign of how Malcolm's pain and the thought of inflicting more aroused and excited the man.

"Fuck you," Malcolm managed to spit out, meeting Lawton's eyes as best he could, refusing to give in just yet. Soon help would arrive. He could get through this. He'd faced down killers before, hell, he'd been raised by one. Help always came eventually.

Lawton laughed, rolling his hips slightly as he muttered 'not yet.' He pushed the tip of the knife into Malcolm's bottom lip, splitting the skin and drawing out a bead of blood, but the pain barely registered in the face of his other injuries.

"You've got a dirty mouth, boy. Maybe I should cut out your tongue."

He must not have meant it, because he brought the knife down along Malcolm's jaw, across his neck and down towards his chest.

"I think I'll start here. Lots of skin to play with, lots of places to take my time on," he declared, sliding his knife under the first button of Malcolm's dress shirt and popping it off easily.

Malcolm's heart began to beat faster, each beat sending a sharp stab of pain through his pinned hand. His breaths came faster, shallower, and he suspected he might soon start to hyperventilate as Lawton removed another button and slid the knife beneath his shirt, across his chest. He gave another last ditch effort to escape but Lawton easily subdued him, the hand in his hair pulling sharply back, forcing Malcolm's chest to rise even as he tightened his legs around Malcolm's soft belly, squeezing the breath from him.

Malcolm felt the knife tip press into his chest, break through the skin, a mere pinprick, a scratch as Lawton began a slow, shallow cut that grew into a searing pain, forcing a ragged scream from Malcolm's chest.

Then, two gunshots rang out in quick succession, loud and unmistakable in the confines of the cellar. Malcolm felt the warm splatter of blood on his cheek, and then Lawton's body fell forward on him, crushing him beneath its weight, and he descended into darkness.

It took a moment for JT to process what had happened. Lawton had been leaving, he'd almost reached the stairs, but something had caused him to snap. He'd gone after Bright, apparently unable to resist the urge to do violence. Bright went down with a cry, and even in the low light JT could see the blood seeping through his fingers from the wound. He had to get free, but without alerting Lawton, had to get to his gun before Lawton could react and stop him once more, somehow had to wiggle out from beneath the barrels without dislodging them too much. Dammit he hated tight spaces.

Bright was pushing himself back up, always the fighter, when Lawton went after him again with that predatory speed that only the truly vicious possesed. Malcolm's scream of pain as the knife went through his hand broke something open in JT and he began to yell and swear as impotent rage swept through him. Bright wouldn't even be in this position if it wasn't for him, he should have stayed upstairs, it should be him lying there beneath Lawton's blade, not Malcolm.

"You damned bastard, fucking coward. I'll kill you with my own bare hands," he ranted, not really thinking about the words, just so incredibly mad and unable to do anything about it.

Lawton's head shot up quickly, almost as if he'd forgotten JT was there, and _damn it_ that was the goal, to stay under the man's radar. JT froze, laying still, trying to pull off that harmless, kicked puppy dog look that Bright had whenever he talked down the psychos. It must have worked well enough because Lawton turned his attention back to Bright after only a moment.

JT went to work then, focusing on freeing his trapped leg, which had long since fallen asleep, inch by inch. He just had to reach a foot further, just had to reach the gun. Malcolm cried out again and he couldn't help but look, trying to stay focused but unable to disregard the profiler's pain.

Lawton was dragging that knife along Bright's neck and JT almost lost it again, afraid he'd slit the man's throat, but he didn't, he kept going. He was talking, saying something to Bright, his captive audience as he kept Bright from moving with that had twisted viciously in his hair. JT could hear Bright's ragged breaths, and it sounded like the kid was losing it.

Less than 6 inches to go and Malcolm let out another ragged cry of pain. _Close enough_, JT decided. He got his free foot solidly planted and surged forward, hand closing around his gun and raising it to shoot even as something behind him shifted and crashed to the floor. Lawton didn't even register the noise, focused solely on his victim. JT fired twice, center mass, and Lawton fell forward onto Bright.

"Shit," JT cried out, realizing that Lawton's knife could easily have gone straight into Bright's chest when Lawton fell. Bright wasn't moving, wasn't making any sounds now.

It took only a moment for JT to work himself free once he no longer had to worry about doing it quietly. Even as he pulled himself up the cellar door opened and Gil and Dani came down the stairs, guns drawn.

"Lawton is down, but we need an ambulance," JT called out. They both hesitated briefly, taking stock of the situation before them. Dani pulled out her phone and called in for the ambulance, her voice catching as her brain processed the site in front of her.

"Bright, Bright, kid, are you okay?" Gil called out, rushing to Malcolm's side.

JT reached him at the same time and they began to pull Lawton off him.

"Careful, careful, don't jostle his hand," JT warned. Together they lifted the dead man's body clear, the second knife clattering from his hand as they did so. _Not buried in Malcolm's chest, then._

Gil was pale, eyes wide as he took in Malcolm's state, his hand still pinned to the floor, thigh bleeding till, but slowly. There was blood seeping through his shirt on his chest as well, and JT feared that he'd been stabbed when Lawton had been shot after all, but a quick check revealed only a long cut.

"Oh my god," Dani breathed out as she came over, too, taking in Malcolm's blood soaked body.

"Its not all his blood," JT reminded both Dani and himself.

Gil had his fingers to Malcolm's neck, pushing gently, checking for a pulse.

"He's alive, pulse is weak but steady. He must have passed out. ETA on the ambulance?"

"10 minutes," Dani answered.

"Let's get the bleeding on his leg stopped. Leave his hand for the paramedics, we don't want him losing any more blood," Gil directed.

Dani pulled off her jacket, pressing it against the stab wound on his thigh. JT, on the other hand, stripped off his belt and wrapped it around Malcolm's upper leg above the injury, pulling it back through its buckle.

"Old Army trick," he explained in response to Dani's raised eyebrow. "High and tight. Improvised tourniquet."

He pulled the belt tight, and Malcolm let out a long, low moan. "Sorry kid," JT muttered.

Malcolm's eyes began to flutter, and Gil moved close once more, kneeling by his side and wrapping one hand around the forearm of his injured hand in anticipation of a rough awakening as he regained consciousness. The last thing he needed was for Bright to panic and try to pull his hand free. Malcolm's whole body twitched violently once, and his eyes finally opened.

"Hey kid, you're okay. I'm here. Lawton's dead, your safe," Gil murmured, running a gentle hand over Malcolm's hair and cupping his face, turning his head to help him focus on Gil.

Malcolm nodded in acknowledgement, closing his eyes once more and letting out another groan of pain.

"Feel like shit," he murmured. "Like I got stabbed."

"Sounds about right," Gil chuckled.

"What happened?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

"Bad guy got me," Malcolm explained, opening his eyes and glancing over at Lawton's body. He shuddered. "Sick bastard. Who got him?"

"JT shot him. We heard the shots, that's how we knew where to find you. That cellar door isn't exactly obvious."

"I was s'posed to show you where we were," Bright mumbled as his eyes slid shut once more, head falling to the side.

Gil frowned in confusion at the statement, but JT cut in.

"I told him to wait up top, show you where we'd chased Lawton. But Lawton got the jump on me, pushed that whole stack of wine barrels on top of me. Probably would have killed me if Bright hadn't stepped in. He almost convinced Lawton to walk away, too, but something must have set him off. He got Bright in the leg, to keep him from following, but once he started he couldn't stop. Pinned him by the hand after that. Would have been me lying there if not for the kid and his damned big mouth."

Footsteps rang out above them and Dani raced up the stairs to flag down the EMT's.

Gil stayed close, unconsciously running his hand over Malcolm's hair soothingly as the medics came down the stairs.

"Multiple stab wounds, blood loss, though most of it is from the suspect. He's been in and out of consciousness," JT told them as they set down their stretcher.

"Damn, hand's still pinned. Looks like he's lost a lot of blood, we'll want to stable that before we pull it out. May even wait to take the knife out till the hospital," one of the medics said, quickly checking over the other injuries.

"I'll grab more gauze and an IV with some pain meds. Getting that knife free is going to be rough," the second medic replied, turning to run back up the stairs.

"I take it we're not worried about that one," the medic who'd stayed behind said with a head tilt towards Lawton.

"No, and good riddance. We'll call in another ambulance once our boy here is out," Gil replied.

The second medic returned and started an IV while his partner began to pack around the knife with gauze, wrapping the area as carefully as he could without too much movement.

"All right, we're going to pull the knife out of the floor. We'll try to keep it in his hand for now to help with blood loss, but it's still going to hurt. We might need help holding him steady if he wakes up again."

"We've got him," Gil assured them.

They made quick work of it, freeing the knife with one strong pull. Malcolm cried out, trying to roll away even in his less than lucid state, but his resistance was short lived and he soon collapsed back down to the ground.

"Let's get him on the stretcher. He's going to need blood soon."

"Hey, when you get to the hospital, tell them no sedatives unless its absolutely necessary," Gil called out as they began to carry the stretcher out.

"What? No sedatives?"

"Trust me, all right. He's got a, a pre-existing condition. He needs to be able to wake up on his own."

The medics look skeptical, but didn't question further.

Gil sighed, rubbing his forehead before turning to JT.

"You gonna get that hand looked at," he asked as he rose to his feet, nodding towards the appendage in question.

JT had nearly forgotten about the abuse his hand had taken, but as soon as Gil mentioned it and he saw how swollen and bruised it was it began to ache once more.

"Yeah, maybe I'll see if I can catch a ride with Bright. Keep an eye on him while I'm at. Remind the doctors about the sedation thing."

"All right, we'll wrap things up here and head over when we can. Keep us posted."

"Will do, boss. Our boy will be all right. He's tough."

"That he is," Gil replied, mostly to himself as JT had already begun to walk away. Malcolm may have a reckless streak a mile long, and no preservation skills to the point of potentially suicidal tendencies, but he was still a fighter, and he would get through this.

**Whew, there it is! Thanks so much for reading! Please R&R, let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a continuation of this story with a little more comfort as the team takes care of their boy in the hospital, etc.**


	2. The Kids are Alrgiht

**A/N: Chapter title from the TV Show of the same name.**

JT convinced the EMT's to let him ride with Malcolm back to the hospital, and now he sat in the corner of the ambulance, staying out the way and only occasionally glancing to where Malcolm lay, still and silent. The EMT's didn't seem worried that he was still unconscious, so JT tried not to be, either. They'd hooked up an IV and removed his improvised tourniquet so they could bandage the stab wound on his leg properly. Now it was a waiting game, monitoring his vitals but otherwise not doing much else.

They were maybe five minutes out when Malcolm began to stir, small twitches of his arms and legs which quickly escalated, becoming more violent. He began to moan and mutter too, no clear words, just small noises of distress. JT hadn't witnessed one of Bright's infamous night terrors for himself, but he'd heard all about them, and had an idea of what to expect. He rose quickly and carefully made his way to Malcolm's side, stepping in front of one of the medics to do so.

"Hey, you should be in your seat," the man protested.

He ignored him, leaning over and patting Bright lightly on the cheek. "Hey, Bright, wake up man. It's just a dream, and you're gonna hurt yourself."

Malcolm thrashed, nearly throwing himself off the stretcher.

"Whoa, easy there. Keep him steady," the medic exclaimed.

JT shook Bright's shoulder, gently at first, then stronger as the man continued to dream.

"Come on man, don't make them sedate you. I know you want to wake up, so let's go," he muttered.

Finally Malcolm's eyes opened wide and he let out a gasp, panting as if he'd been running. He looked around wildly, clearly disoriented.

JT leaned over to meet his eyes, filling his field of vision. "Hey Bright, you're okay. We're in the ambulance, almost to the hospital. You're safe."

Bright blinked rapidly and nodded. "Right. Okay, I'm alright," he breathed out, laying back, the tension leaving his body as he relaxed.

"What the hell?" one of the medics muttered.

JT turned on him. "He chases down serial killers for a living. Cut the guy some slack," he barked. The medic had the good graces to look abashed.

"We're pulling up now. You better sit back down so we can get him prepped to off load."

He nodded, leaning back towards Malcolm. "I'll be right over there."

Malcolm nodded weakly in acknowledgement, eyes sliding closed once more.

He sat back down, and caught the medics sharing a glance between them. One of them sidled over to him, looking unsure.

"Look, I don't know what his deal is with sedation, but if they have to operate on him, the doctor is going to put him out."

JT ran his uninjured hand over his face, sighing in frustration. "Yeah, I get it. All I know is that he doesn't like getting stuck in his own head, all right? He'd got a lot of demons in there."

The medic's expression softened, and he gave Malcolm a considering look.

"I can't even imagine. I've seen a lot of shit, but... Anyways, I'll talk to them inside, let them know, see what we can do. I just can't make any promises."

"I appreciate it, man. I know he will, too," JT replied.

It took Gil and Dani a couple more hours of work before they were able to break away from the station and head to the hospital. JT had sent them a text when the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, but they hadn't heard anything since. Malcolm's injuries hadn't been life-threatening, aside from the blood loss, but the uncertainty was still unnerving, and they were eager for an update on both men's health.

They found JT first, sprawled out across a couple of waiting room chairs, his injured hand in a soft cast and sling, fast asleep.

Gil walked straight to the nurses station, while Dani took a seat next to the sleeping cop, scraping her chair loudly across the linoleum floor as she did so. It had the desired effect, and JT woke with a start, looking more than a little disoriented. Dani almost felt bad, but sleeping in that position couldn't have been comfortable, and his back and neck would probably thank her later.

"Hey, you made it," JT mumbled.

"Yep, Gil too. How's the hand?"

"Mostly bruised, one small break. Can't cast it till the swelling goes down."

"At least it's not your shooting hand," Dani offered in consolation, though her expression was doubtful.

"Yeah, lucky me. They gave me some great painkillers. Must have knocked me out."

"Well you had a busy day. Any word on Bright?"

"Shit, no. I lost track of him once we got here, didn't even think about it after they drugged me up," JT admitted.

"He's in surgery," Gil said as he joined them. "Nothing major, but they were worried about some of the tendons in his hand. He should be out within the hour."

Dani stood and stretched. "Coffee?"

Both men nodded, and she set off towards the cafeteria.

"How are you?" Gil asked as she walked away. "For real."

JT let out a long sigh and slouched back in his seat.

"Fine, honestly. Little bruised, but that's it. Could have been worse."

"Yeah, you could be dead. Why would you go after him alone?"

"I wasn't planning on chasing him down. Just wanted to check for an alternate exit. I didn't think he'd engage."

"You're lucky Bright stopped him when he did."

JT scoffed. "Damned kid. Nearly got himself killed instead. He never listens."

"Look, JT, I know he can be reckless, but…"

"It's more than that," JT cut in. "He walks into these situations and he has no idea what he's doing, other than getting himself in trouble. He disregards protocols, has no respect for the system." Which was the real root of the problem..

JT had seen how following protocol and procedures had saved lives when he was serving overseas, and they were equally important in law enforcement. One little misstep could result in an entire case being thrown out of the courts. The profiler's impulsiveness didn't just endanger himself, it could potentially jeopardize the work of the entire team.

"JT, listen," Gil ordered, clapping a strong hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye. "I think you're forgetting something about Bright. He's not just some schmuck off the street who's too smart for his own good. He was a federal agent for 10 years. He knows how law enforcement works."

JT scoffed, shaking his head, clearly sceptical.

"Just think about one thing for me, alright?" Gil continued. "Imagine that I asked you to hand over your badge and your gun, but still expected you to come in tomorrow and run down leads or interview suspects. Would you be satisfied sitting at your desk all day, or going to a scene but not getting involved? Bright comes in every day for one reason, to stop the bad guys. Yes, he has issues, and his mental state may be questionable sometimes, but when it comes down to it, he wants to keep people safe, just like you. Just, think about that."

Gil gave his shoulder one more pat, then stood and made his way back towards the nurses station, leaving JT to consider his words.

Dani returned with coffee shortly after, and the team sat in silence as they waited for Malcolm to get out of surgery.

Gil contemplated calling Jessica, but decided against it until he had more information to give her. Or maybe he wouldn't call at all. Malcolm could deal with his mother when he woke up. It was part of the price he'd pay for putting himself in danger yet again.

Finally a young doctor appeared, tablet in hand, and called out Bright's name.

All three of the cops rose and she narrowed her eyes at them.

"Are you Mr. Bright's family?"

Gil flashed his badge by way of response. "Lt. Arroyo, NYPD. Mr. Bright works for me and was injured while on a case. His family has been notified."

The doctor looked unsure for a moment, but began tapping at the tablet, unlocking the screen and pulling up a document.

"Very well. I'm Dr. Davis, Mr. Bright is out of surgery, no complications, everything was very straight forward. Let's see, there's a note here. Ah yes, it was noted that sedatives were to be avoided, so he is on a very strong dose of painkillers, and they gave him a very light sedative for the surgery, but it is likely wearing off already. He'll probably be pretty out of it, I can let one of you back to be with him when he wakes up if you'd like? Everyone else will have to come back tomorrow, unless his _family_ arrives."

"I'll go," JT offered. Gil and Dani both shot him incredulous looks.

"What? Dude saved my life, least I can do is be there to say thanks when he wakes up."

"Fine. I'm going to give Jessica a call, wait for her to get here. Powell, you might as well head home, get some rest. Unless you want to stick around to deal with Bright's mother."

Dani raised both hands and took an exaggerated step back. "Nope, that's all you, boss. I don't deal with parents."

'"Figures," Gil muttered.

Dr. Davis gave JT one sharp nod and then turned and began walking down the corridor, clearly expecting the cop to follow.

JT was used to the hospital thing, to seeing co-workers looking worse for wear, but familiarity didn't make it any easier, just less shocking.

Bright was slightly built to begin with, but he looked particularly fragile laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to the typical machines, his injured hand heavily bandaged and resting on top of the covers. He had an oxygen mask on, but Dr. Davis removed it and replaced it with a nasal tube. JT stood by, feeling awkward as the doctor completed some checks, then left without another word.

"O-okay then," he muttered, taking a seat in a plastic chair next to Bright's bed.

"Any idea how long you plan on being out, Bright?" he asked aloud.

Much to his surprise, Malcolm began to mutter something, shifting slightly, head turning from one side to the other. JT got to his feet once more and approached the bed.

"Hey man, you awake?"

Malcolm's eyes opened briefly and he blinked several times, clearly coming too. JT was relieved to see that he did not appear to be agitated or panicked as he woke this time.

"Wha', JT?"

"Yep, I'm still here. They've got you pretty doped up on painkillers, you feel alright?"

"Amazing," Malcolm replied, eyes fully opened and more or less focused on JT's face. "I don't feel anything."

He giggled. An actual, incredibly girly giggle.

JT sighed. "Of course, you're completely out of it."

"Your hand!" Malcolm exclaimed suddenly, eyes wide as they caught sight of the cast JT was wearing.

"It's good, man. Just a bruise. Not like yours there. You went into surgery, remember?"

"No, but that's alright. Don't remember lots of things," Malcolm replied forlornly.

"Riiight. Well, look, Gil is calling your mom."

Malcolm's face lit up at the mention of Gil's name, only to fall as soon as the word 'mom' left JT's mouth.

"Oh no," he sighed.

"Yeah, good luck with that. Anyways, I wanted to tell you. You probably saved my life earlier. I get to go home to my family because of what you did, so thanks. Really," JT said, words solemn and eyes serious. Whatever his issues with the profiler, he couldn't deny that he owed the guy a major debt.

Plus there was a good chance Bright wouldn't even remember this conversation, so he wouldn't be mocking JT for his sincerity later.

"Yeah, couldn't let him cut you up," Malcolm replied, nodding in equal solemnity.

"I'm sorry you got hurt, man. You did the right thing, trying to get him to walk away."

Malcolm winced slightly, eyes shuttered for a brief moment, likely recalling the ordeal he'd been through.

"Not your fault. You got him, saved me, too. Thanks."

JT was gathering his thoughts for a response when the unmistakable sound of high heels echoed down the hall, growing louder by the moment.

"And that's my cue. We'll be by tomorrow, all right? Gil and Dani, too. Get some rest."

"Should have left me to Lawton. My mother is going to kill me anyways," Malcolm muttered.

JT barked out a sudden laugh, taken aback by the quick witted response from Bright. He was clearly coming out of the post-op stupor he'd been in. Definitely time to go, before their conversation could go any further down the sentimental route.

"Gil won't let her, I'm sure. Just hit the call button if she starts coming after you," JT suggested, walking towards the door.

Malcolm chuckled, and raised his uninjured hand slightly in a brief farewell.

"Thanks Detective Tarmel, for being there. For being here. Its nice, not being alone."

JT could only nod in response, then left the room just as Jessica Whitly arrived, looking ridiculously put together and composed for a woman who was visiting her son in the hospital.

"Ma'am," JT nodded.

"Detective, good evening. I take it my son is alive?"

"Yes, alive and awake. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

Jessica scoffed, rolling her eyes, but JT could see the worry in her eyes.

"I'm just leaving now. Don't be too hard on him, I'd probably be in a slab down in the morgue if it weren't for your son," JT admitted.

Jessica gave him an appraising look, before nodding once, and entering the hospital room.

"You good?" Gil asked from where he was standing, leaning against the wall just down the hall.

"Yep, I'm good. Gonna go home and sleep off these pain meds they gave me."

"Good idea. We'll talk in the morning."

"Sounds good. And boss, about what you said, you're right. He's good at his job, we need him," JT admitted, then shook his head ruefully. "Yeah, definitely time to sleep off these meds."

Gil laughed, shaking his head fondly.

He had a good team around him, and they were going to be alright.

**A/N: ****All right, there it is! This chapter is a lot different and I didn't feel like I had as much of a plan for it. I'm not as excited about it as the first chapter, but oh well.**

**I have another, longer story in mind, with more malcolm whump. I want to get most of it written before I start posting though and have a complete outline in place so I don't get stuck halfway through, so I'm not sure when I'll get it posted, but hopefully it will be fairly soon!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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